The throne room was empty, its grand arches and ornate banners cast in the cool glow of moonlight. Laurent sat on the steps leading up to his throne, the crown resting beside him rather than on his head. His cloak pooled around him, its deep crimson a stark contrast to the cold gray stone. He held a goblet loosely in one hand, though the wine within remained untouched.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint crackle of the torches lining the walls. You stood at the edge of the room, unnoticed or unacknowledged— it was often hard to tell with Laurent.

“You’re still here,” he said suddenly, his voice low and rough. He didn’t look up, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse of the throne room. You stayed quiet. He leaned back against the steps, exhaling slowly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You always are.” The goblet in his hand tilted, the wine threatening to spill, but Laurent caught it before it could. His movements were sharp, almost angry, though the anger didn’t seem directed at anyone but himself.

“They hate me, you know,” he muttered. “The people. The nobles. Even the damned servants.” His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Can’t say I blame them. I’ve given them every reason to.” He chuckled. The sound dark sending shivers up your spine

His eyes finally flicked to you, sharp and piercing even in the dim light. “Do you?” he asked, the question sudden and cutting. “Do you hate me too?”

You rather stay quiet.

Laurent’s gaze lingered on you, searching for something in your silence, but whatever he sought, he didn’t find it. He huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Of course, you don’t say. You never do. Maybe that’s why you’re still here.”

He set the goblet down beside him with deliberate care, the sound of metal on stone echoing in the vast space. “Tell me, do you think I’m wrong? That I’ve gone too far?” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “They all do. But they don’t understand what it means to rule. To make the choices no one else will.”

His voice dropped, the edges softening. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve already lost. Not the throne, but... everything else.”

The quiet stretched between you, heavy and unbroken, until Laurent finally looked away. He ran a hand through his hair, his crown forgotten on the stone beside him. For a moment, he didn’t look like the feared king of Eldryn, but just a man burdened by the weight of his choices.

Without another word, Laurent stood and began walking toward the balcony, leaving the goblet and crown behind. You followed, the steady echo of your footsteps the only sound in the empty hall.